Page 53 of An Unusual Wager

Chapter Twenty-Three

Verity awoke to pale sunlight slanting between the heavy drapes on Jonnie’s windows. It was early still, and the night rain must have ceased with the arrival of the sun. For a moment, she couldn’t work out where she was, nor why she was lying on a strange bed with a man asleep beside her. Admittedly, he was under the covers and she was lying on top of them, but still. Then she remembered the events of the previous day and her own vigil at Jonnie’s bed and agreement to sleep beside him. Her instinct had been that he’d needed her, and she’d barely hesitated.

Looking at him sleeping peacefully now, she decided she’d been right. He certainly seemed to have slept better with her beside him. No more nightmares had disturbed his slumber, and he appeared to be sleeping like the proverbial baby. She propped herself on her elbow and watched him for a few minutes, taking him in. To her surprise, this was a pleasurable occupation.

The dishevelment of his dark hair had allowed stray curls to flop across his forehead and around his ears giving him a distinctly boyish appearance. For the first time, she noticed how long and thick his eyelashes were, resting now on his still pale cheeks. His mouth was slightly open showing even white teeth and his breathing sounded regular and healthy. She had to allow that even with one side of his face darkly bruised, he was every bit as attractive as she’d thought on first impression. More so in this state, perhaps.

She put a tentative hand on his forehead. Nothing. No untoward heat. The fever had gone.

His lashes flickered and his eyes opened at her touch. His turn to be momentarily confused. And then he smiled. A sleepy smile.

Verity’s heart lurched. She’d seen him smile before, of course, but never like this. Never in sleepy spontaneity. Before, his smiles had been for a reason, holding more than they should have. This one meant nothing like that. Instead, she was shocked to see it was a smile of pure pleasure at seeing her. He was not out to seduce her. He was not besting her in argument. He was purely pleased to see her, and that was all. And it worked far better than any attempt at seduction could have. Uninjured and whole, he’d been easy to resist. But now…?

Her heartbeat began to quicken.

She smiled back. Could he hear the pounding? They were that close to one another it seemed entirely possible. What would he think?

He licked what must be dry lips, the action only serving to speed her heart up even further. “Verity.” His voice was low and husky. Of course, all her life she’d heard her name spoken. But not like this. Damn it. What was there about this man? Did he possess some kind of magic?

She swallowed. “Yes?”

“You stayed.”

“Of course I did. You’re injured, and you’re my husband.”

“You stayed all night long.”

She could feel her cheeks warming. “I did.” Why did she feel so flustered? Anybody would think she’d woken to find herself naked inside his bed with him, not lying pretty much fully dressed on the top of the covers.

“Thank you.” His voice was soft with wonder. A thought occurred to her. Had no one ever cared enough for him to offer simple comfort? For that was all she’d done. She’d stayed to make sure his bad dreams couldn’t disturb him again.

She needed to think of what he might need now, or she was going to be lying here staring at him all morning. “Are you thirsty?”

He licked his lips again. “I am. That laudanum dries one out, I fear, and leaves behind a bitter aftertaste.”

Glad of the opportunity to escape his unconscious magnetism, she rolled over and slid off the bed and realized with a shock that she was in her nightgown and her peignoir had come loose. She hurriedly retied the sash. “I’ll pour you some water.”

By the time she’d done that, he’d managed to pull himself up into a sitting position and was able to take the water for himself. “I’m not using that damned invalid cup again. You can throw it out.” He must be feeling better, which was encouraging. Yesterday, when he’d been in such a deep, drug-induced sleep, she’d not been entirely convinced by Dr. Collins saying he was going to recover.

However, there was a distinct disadvantage to his upright position. Like this his nakedness from the waist up had become more obvious, despite his many bandages. Her gaze was drawn, against her will, to his bandaged chest. She couldn’t help but notice, again, how powerfully built he was, with a musculature that indicated his probable practice of sport of some kind. He possessed wide shoulders and arms that boasted sizeable biceps.

More heat crept up her face and she looked away in a hurry. Undressing him yesterday had posed no problem due to his having been comatose, but now, with him wide awake, she couldn’t look, not even at his chest and arms.

He finished the water and handed back the glass, then dropped his own gaze to the bulky splint on his right forearm. “Drat this thing.”

She smiled. “I take it the pain isn’t so bad this morning.”

He grimaced. “Still there enough to remind me I’m not whole at present.”

He was probably making little of it on purpose. Men and their pride.

She sat on the chair beside the bed, glad of the new distance between them. Acutely aware that when he was not trying to be seductive, he was, in fact, far more likeable. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

He gave a shrug, which made him wince. Probably the shoulder wound which Dr. Collins had said was not serious, but would be painful while it healed. “Not much. I recall being at Gentleman Jackson’s all morning, boxing. At some point yesterday, I wondered if that might be how I received these wounds, although this,” he indicated his left shoulder with a slight nod of the head, “cannot have been dealt out at that gentleman’s premises. Pistols are not acceptable combat there, I can assure you. Without a doubt, some blackguard has shot me, and I’m damned if I can remember who it was or how it happened.” He put a hand to the back of his head. “Although I suspect this notable bump is the reason my memory is so poor.”

“Walter told me you were set upon as you walked back to Cavendish Square by a large group of footpads.”

“Armed with pistols? They mostly use knives and cudgels, in my experience.” Had he been set upon before by their like?